Sam Comes First
by Impala77
Summary: Expanded one shot - (implied) wincest. Dean has to get Sam patched up after a vampire hunt... Rated M in chapter 3!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is _no longer_ a one shot - (implied) wincest. Rated M in ch3! Enjoy!**

 **SPN**

Dean carried more than walked Sam to the Impala parked on the upper edge of a tree covered slope. Sam's eyes were half mast at best and he was stumbling along as best he could when Dean dragged his 190 pounds of almost dead weight up the slope.

Once, he almost dropped Sam as his foot slipped on some wet foliage on the ground. Dean grunted as his knee hit the forest floor, but never relinquished his grip on his baby brother. They'd been taking out a vampire nest, seven blood-sucking bastards that had killed half a dozen kids in the area by draining them dry, getting a kick out of listening to their hearts give out when there was no longer enough blood to pump.

Sam had killed the one standing guard with a clean swipe of his machete. The guard had been dead before he'd even known hunters were close. Dean had brushed past his blood splattered brother, the two sweeping the place like a well oiled machine.

The next two vamps had been headless only moments later, but the thumps of their dropping bodies had alerted the remaining blood suckers. Taking on two each at the same time normally didn't prove much of a challenge to the Winchesters, but one vamp Dean had been facing towered a few inches above even Sam.

Dean had been thrown back and he hit the wall hard, skull throbbing and a thin line of blood trickling down his neck. That blood gave the vamps an advantage. They could smell him even more easily now. Sam had beheaded another vamp when he'd seen Dean struggling to his feet. Disregarding his own opponent, Sam had rushed to help his brother.

Soon, two more heads had rolled on the floor, but the giant vamp was giving the brothers a hard time. Dean had met the wall a few more times and by then was no longer sure which of the two giants was the real one. Sam was favoring his left side where the vamp had landed a hit with a crowbar, probably cracking Sam's ribs.

The vamp had shaken off Dean once more, sending him tumbling to the floor again. Since Sam was struggling to draw air into his lungs, the blood sucker had a moment to draw a knife of his own. Sam had seen the attack coming, brought up his machete just in time to deflect the blade. His ribs screamed in agony and Sam gasped, going down on his knees. The vamp had followed up with a kick under his chin. Sam's head snapped back and Sam blacked out briefly, finding himself on the floor spitting blood.

Subconsciously, he'd braced for the next assault but it hadn't come. When he'd opened an eye he'd seen the giant had snatched up the machete Sam had dropped when his head snapped back. Behind the vamp, Sam had made out his brother, his own machete in full swing. The vamp turned, aiming the weapon at Dean at the same time.

Sam hadn't been able to make out if Dean hit the giant or the giant hit Dean. His vision had been swimming. Dean had fallen to the ground the same time as the vampire, eyes focused on the exposed fangs, hand gripping his machete tight. He'd body-tackled the giant when he realized the monster was too close for a swing at the neck.

Adrenaline had brought the older brother right back on his feet. Then, down on his knees, the vamp had been the perfect height for Dean to chop his head off. Face distorted in grim determination, Dean had swung hard and stumbled, almost falling onto the freshly severed head. He'd only spared the dead fang a fleeting glance and turned to his brother.

"C'mon, Sam, let's get outta here."

He'd grabbed Sam's weakly offered hand and pulled his mostly limp brother upright, slinging Sam's arm around his neck for support. They had stumbled back to the car and when Sam was finally safely inside, Dean groaned and went back to retrieve their weapons.

Half an hour later Dean manhandled Sam into the dingy motel room, gently letting him down on the bed further away from the door. Sam's eyes were open but all over the place.

"Sammy, you with me?"

Sam grunted weakly, eyelids drooping. Dean fetched what he needed for first aid and cleaned up his brother's face. There was a hefty bruise forming where the vamp's boot had connected with Sam's jaw and Dean made sure Sam's teeth were where they're supposed to be.

He found a long but shallow gash along Sam's ribcage and remembered the knife the fang had produced. Dean prodded around and found two cracked ribs in the proximity. There didn't seem to be more damage there, and Sam's breathing was shallow but not labored. Dean's head was throbbing but luckily his own double vision had cleared up while he was driving them back to the motel.

Dean took a deep breath to reduce the pounding in his head and steady his hands before he neatly stitched up his brother's side and tightly wrapped the ribs. Looking down when he was done, Dean found Sam had either passed out or nodded off, which was just as well. He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss on Sam's slack lips.

"You're gonna be alright, baby brother," Dean rasped and pushed himself up to his feet. Time to clean up himself.

Dean took a step in direction of the tiny bathroom when his head began to swim. The world was tilting left and right and his left side started throbbing mercilessly. Dean's tongue snaked out to moisten his lips, but his mouth felt just as dry. He needed a drink of water and continued to the bathroom.

Two steps further, his side was on fire and Dean pressed his hand to it, surprised to feel a wet patch on his shirt. He stared down at his hand which was soaked in blood. Gingerly, Dean pulled up his shirt and t-shirt exposing a heavily bleeding gash all along the lowest rib. The wound was deep enough for Dean to see the white of a bone shining through.

The pounding in Dean's head intensified as adrenaline kicked in. He was hurt and he needed to tend to it sooner rather than later. Dean dragged his feet into the bathroom and slumped onto the toilet seat.

Mechanically, he pulled his shirts over his head and cleaned off the blood. His vision was tunneling but he had to seal the gash else he'd risk bleeding out. Sam was out for the count so passing out himself was not an option.

He poured a bit of brandy over the needle for disinfection and then downed a few sips for good measure. Practice made Dean's hand a lot more steady than it should be when he began stitching himself up.

Seventeen stitches and a dousing of the wound with brandy later, Dean had completed the task. He'd worry about cleaning the place later. All he wanted to do now was crawl to his bed and sleep.

He was feeling weary and tired to the marrow of his bones. His blood was rushing loudly in his ears but even in his half-functioning state, Dean noticed his pulse was way too slow. He'd just made it out of the bathroom when the room tilted badly again and then grayed out. His eyes rolled up and soundlessly, Dean crashed to the unrelenting floor.

 **AN2: My beta said I can't just leave it like that. What do _you_ say? Reviews welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Due** **to popular demand here and elsewhere, here's the continuation. Thinking of maybe adding a part three. But that depends on you rearders. Thanks to sexybeast1502 and AnonymousTigress for the reviews :)**

 *****SPN*****

Sam woke up to bright sunlight assaulting his eyes. He blinked and groaned as his jaw reminded him of the treatment it had suffered. He had no recollection how he ended up in his bed but vaguely remembered their encounter with the vampires.

"Dean?"

Sam groaned as he tried to sit up. His ribs screamed in agony and he fell back into the pillow. Sam turned his head to look at the bed next to his, but it was empty. Instead, a bit further, the bathroom door was open with the lights on.

"Dean?"

Sam's voice was a bit more forceful now but speaking hurt his jaw. Still, there was no answer to his call. Sam frowned.

"DEAN?"

Unless his brother had gone deaf there was no way he couldn't have heard him this time around. There was no shower running or anything else that could have drowned out his voice.

With gritted teeth and his breath held, Sam manoevered himself into a sitting position, taking in the wrapped up ribs and a long warmed up cool pack next to his pillow. Some bloody patches were littered on the sheets, already dried into the material.

Sam's feet hit the ground and his eyes fell on a bloodied handprint on the bathroom door frame. He looked around more and saw a boot peeking out from behind Dean's bed. Sam's blood ran cold.

"Dean!"

Alarm making his pulse spike like a needle on a seismograph in an earthquake. He scrambled to his feet and walked around the bed.

"Fuck!"

Dean was laying on the floor, unmoving, clad only in his bloodied jeans and boots. There was blood all around him and on him and Sam immediately fell to his knees next to his brother, placing one shaky hand on his brother's shoulder.

Dean was half on his right side, half face down. His skin felt cold and clammy to Sam's touch, but not icy. Sam took in the stitches stretching across Dean's side and he carefully rolled his brother onto his back.

Immediately Sam's fingers searched out the pulse point in Dean's neck. Holding his breath for a good few seconds, Sam exhaled sharply when he finally felt a faint flutter beneath his fingers. Dean's breathing was as shallow as his pulse and Sam knew he'd have to do something pronto.

To protect his own aching ribs, Sam pulled his brother Rautek style up and heaved him onto the bed, collecting as many blankets around him as he could find. His brother was cold, partially due to blood loss, partially due to being exposed to the cold floor for several hours. Sam knew cold blood didn't transport as much oxygen to the muscles and brain, so warming Dean up was crucial.

"Hey, Dean, ' you with me?" Sam asked, gently shaking Dean's shoulder. He got no reply, so making Dean drink some much needed water to replenish the blood volume was out of the question. It wouldn't do to have Dean choke on the water or inhale it.

Sam remembered they'd had a saline bag in the car still, complete with needle, from the last time they raided a clinic for supplies. It would have to do.

"I'll be right back, Dean. Don't go anywhere."

A few minutes later he returned with the bag and allowed himself a drink of water before setting up the drip for Dean. Finding a vein proved tricky as Dean had lost quite a bit of blood so Sam inhaled deeply in relief when he felt the needle slide in and the drip started running. A makeshift construction of a clotheshanger and a hook in the wall saw to it that the bottle was kept elevated and Sam could keep his hands free.

Sam had another glass of water and used the last bit to sprinkle over Dean's parched lips in hope of a reaction, but was disappointed. He had hoped to see Dean's tongue snaking out in reflex to lap up the droplets. Sam sighed and decided to do a complete check over on his brother. Dean's pupils showed signs of a concussion, the cut on the back of his head had crusted over already and the stitches Dean must have administered himself were still intact, despite the fall he'd obviously had.

Sam cleaned the blood off his brother, whose skin was starting to feel less cold and slowly took on more color, before placing a bandage over the stitches and carefully wrestling Dean into a t-shirt. Then he sat back down and relaxed.

His stomach growled, but Sam wasn't sure he'd feel up to anything solid for his jaw ached with the mere thought of chewing. The mini fridge yielded half a bottle of orange juice and Sam polished it before returning to Dean's side.

Dean was still unresponsive but his pulse was stronger and his color continued to improve. Sam caressed Dean's forehead. He was feeling weary now and after a few minutes he curled up next to and around his brother, thigh laying across Dean's, arm resting across Dean's chest, carefully avoiding the stitches.

Sam knew his brother had got him out of the vamp lair, drove him home, stitched him up and made sure he was safe before even sparing a thought about his own health. And Dean had been hurt at least as much as Sam. Maybe worse. Sam knew for his brother, he'd always come first. John Winchester had made sure that Dean would never forget that.

"Need you, Dean," Sam mumbled as his hands rubbed across Dean's chest, relishing in the gentle rise and fall that told him his brother was alive. He pressed a kiss to Dean's temple and another one on the corner of his mouth.

Sam didn't know how long they'd been laying like that. It could have been minutes, or hours. Suddenly Dean took a deeper breath and turned his head in Sam's direction. He was still out, but not unresponsive anymore. Sam smiled. Dean would be alright. Finally, he dozed off.


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNING! Chapter 3 is rated M!**

Sam was watching as Dean slept. Nine days had passed since they had the run in with the vampires. They had been recovering in another motel where Sam had driven them to once Dean had finally opened his eyes after being out for almost two days.

Dean had been quiet for his standarts. He wasn't moving much, didn't argue much with Sam and - to Sam's big surprise - hadn't once tried to jump his bones. He didn't complain about healthy food or being stuck in a motel room.

Sam knew what that meant. Dean was in pain, discomfort, but didn't wanna worry his brother. Every evening Sam had inspected Dean's stitches without any resistance or snark from the older man. At first, Sam hadn't worried much. Dean had told him the wound got down to the bone.

At day four, Sam had begun to worry for real. But Dean would deny something was wrong so Sam simply watched him like a hawk. He noticed Dean avoided anything strenuous that would get his pulse and breathing up. He moved carefully and deliberate. Any stress onto the stitches made Dean back off.

Sam decided not to mention this. It was hard enough watching Dean like that, hearing his usually strong voice reduced to a tame drawl. Sam missed the often boisterous innuendos, Dean's full on laugh when he'd tricked Sam, the playful slaps on his back and their impromptu wrestling matches that not seldom ended with them having sex.

Nine days had passed and Sam could tell that Dean was climbing the walls inside his mind. Sam had somehow managed to convince Dean to go for a walk around the block and this rather inconspicuous activity had worn out his brother so much he dozed off on the couch.

Sam watched the soft rise and fall of Dean's ribs, covered by a thin tshirt. Carefully, he sat on the edge of the couch and lifted the fabric to inspect the stitches once more. There was no sign of infection but some of them looked tight and pulling on the skin. The scar itself looked healed up decently so Sam decided it was time to pull the stitches out as soon as Dean was awake.

His own stitched up side was itching already and Sam found he'd be able to reach them himself just fine. So he went ahead an cut them before using the tweezers to pull out the remains. He ran his fingertips over the healed skin and then applied a bit of antiseptic cream.

About twenty minutes later Dean stirred. He sat up and watched Sam clean his gun with well practised movements. Sam had heard Dean moving and finished quickly.

"Hey Dean," he smiled. Dean smiled back.

"Hey," he rasped.

"Was thinking about getting rid of those stitches that are bothering you," Sam declared and went to grab the necessary items without waiting for a response.

"They don't bother me," Dean denied but his words were lacking conviction.

"Sure," Sam nodded. "So you've just turned into a mellow pansy overnight?"

Dean's green eyes flashed angrily. He wanted to give Sam a piece of his mind but when he sucked in air to start his tirade, said stitches were pulling like serrated hooks on his skin. Quickly, he abandoned the move and scowled.

"As if. Right, then do your job, Dr. I-think-I'm-sexy."

"It's Dr. YOU-KNOW-I'm-sexy," Sam countered. "Shirt off."

Carefully, Sam cut off every tidy knot his brother had made and pulled out stitch after stitch. Dean didn't move not make a sound. He was hyper aware of Sam's hands on his skin as he steadied himself during the task.

"Great," Dean growled once Sam had finished and applied the salve. "You're busy manhandling me and I get a freaking boner."

"You're welcome," Sam smiled, checking out the bulge in Dean's jeans. "You want any help with that?"

Dean took in a deep breath, relishing in the absence of sharp pain as there were no more restricting stitches. He was amazed to realize how quickly his own mood and demeanor changed after Sam had finished his job. But now the pent up need of a whole week came at him with a vengeance.

"Sammy," he growled huskily and got up on his feet. His hands latched onto Sam's t-shirt and within seconds they were both bare chested. Dean's eyes sought out Sam's crotch and he found the tent Sam pitched was impressive. "Did ya miss me?"

Sam's tongue snaked out to moisten his lips as his breath hitched at Dean's words. He nodded and playfully cupped his jean-clad erection to squeeze and release some pressure. Problem was, the need was just getting bigger.

"Yeah, missed you, Dean," Sam panted and eyed the bed. Dean knew a hint when he saw one and he knew better than to refuse Sam. Sam's needs always came first. With a leer and a smirk, Dean backed Sam up until Sam fell onto the bed.

The next moment Dean was hovering over him, leg pressed in between Sam's, lips crushing together and they were kissing like there was no tomorrow. Dean pressed his pelvis against Sam, groaning at the hot pressure of Sam's arousal pressing hard into his thigh.

One-handed, Dean undid Sam's belt and buttons and then wrapped his callused fingers around Sam's cock, squeezing hard. Sam groaned in his mouth and bucked into Dean's fist.

"Eager much, Sammy?" Dean whispered as he nibbled along Sam's stubbled jaw.

"Haven't touched myself for days, Dean. Needed to know you were OK. I wanted your hands to be the first things my body felt. God, I'm so hard, I could blow just from feeling your breath on my skin."

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean gasped and groaned as he pushed his own precum-leaking cock against his brother. Their tongues engaged in another epic battle and their hands were never still, touching, rubbing, and pulling on clothes.

When both were naked, Sam reached for Dean's thick cock and squeezed. Dean groaned, eyes glued on his brother's giant hand jerking his dick with expert movements. He only allowed it a few seconds before stilling Sam's hand with his own.

Their eyes locked, pupils blown wide with lust and desire. Dean didn't have to say it. His need to take care of Sam was written all over his face. Sam nodded and allowed Dean to push him gently down on the bed. Dean lined up behind Sam as the big spoon, pushing his hard length over Sam's buttocks a few times before nestling in and wrapping his hand around Sam's impressive member.

"Gonna take care of you, baby brother," Dean mumbled into Sam's ears as his hand began jerking and twisting the twitching cock. "Gonna make you feel so good. Wanna make you see fireworks when you cum for me, Sammy."

Sam groaned loudly and began fucking Dean's fist, unable to hold still. Dean had wanted to drag this out but it had been too long for him, too, and his own hips joined Sam's in a familiar rhythm. His right hand kept twisting and jerking Sam, thumb rubbing over the tip to spread Sam's precum all over it as his own juices slicked up Sam's ass.

Dean's lips found Sam's neck and he sucked gently, using his teeth to nibble and mark his brother and lover. His chest was pressing tightly against Sam's back and he could feel the rapid thumping of Sam's heart as much as Sam felt him.

"Dean," Sam moaned, "oh fuck, so good."

"You feel so good, Sammy. So hard in my hand, I can feel your cock tremble with excitement. Wanna make it explode, Sammy. Shoot your spunk all over my hand." Sam moaned again. He had missed Dean's thick, raspy voice and it made him tingle.

"Need more, De," he rasped. "Please, De, I need more, wanna cum for you so bad."

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean growled and quickly adjusted his cock right at Sam's slicked up hole. He wanted to go slow, but as soon as his cock head slipped in, the familiar pressure was too inviting and Dean shoved his cock into Sam in one thrust. They both groaned loudly.

Dean's hand and cock quickly found a rhythm and within moments, Dean knew Sam was ready to blow. Hell, he was, too, but Sammy had to come first. Dean angled his thrusts to make sure he hit Sam's prostate at the right angle and squeezed his fist around him once more before releasing the hot, hard penis. Keeping rhythm, Dean drawled in Sam's ear.

"Cum for me, Sammy," Dean enticed and bit down on Sam's shoulder as he pushed in deep and Sam came undone. He shouted out his pleasure as his vision went white and in his sensory overload he was vaguely aware of Dean's voice talking him through the mind-blowing orgasm as he shot a week's worth of cum all over his brother's hand and the sheets.

Dean was fighting his own completion as he watched his brother's, only allowing himself pleasure when Sam's head leaned heavily back against him. All it took were two more thrusts and Dean blew his load in Sam's tight tunnel with a deep moan and Sammy's name on his lips.

***THE3ND***


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